


Premature Baldness

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Loving Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 12:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: 'i'd love to read a fic where Ollie and the reader have some nsfw fun time but Ollie feels kinda guilty after cause Reader is younger than him'Of course. Bless the Oliver.





	Premature Baldness

“Oh, god, Ollie…”

You whimper as he licks at your tits, goatee scratching your skin, and stroke him, straddling his legs and secretly hoping you aren’t cutting off the blood to his feet. He looks so hot like this, one hand between you to stroke you, jaw clenched under that , and you dip your head to kiss him.

“(Y/N),” he pants, and those green eyes make your chest heave, never mind the way he’s touching you with those talented fingers. Bassists do it deeper, indeed… You pant, chest speckled red and cheeks flushed, and sink your nails into that chest. He’s so long – it’s intensely satisfying to drag your nails down his body and see the red lines flower on his pale skin, and you feel yourself tightening around his fingers as he lets out a deep, crackling moan.

“Ollie, babe, I’m…” Your head falls back as you chase that feeling, desperate to come with his fingers inside you, and you falter for a moment in touching him before his little grunt of annoyance brings you back to what you’re doing, and you look at him. “You get me off so good, you know that?”

“Good,” he breathes, and you feel yourself tighten around him again, warmth blossoming between your thighs. “Come for me, sweetheart, come for me…” You feel every muscle in your body tense, and then you’re shivering and moaning his name, electricity sparking over your skin; you stroke him, not quite aware of whether you’re keeping up with the rhythm but also not caring, and you hear him give a panted stammer of your name again before he bucks up into your hand, cumming into your fist.

“Ollie,” you whisper, and his eyes open wide, staring at you. You look around, and, leaning over with his hands steady your hips, grab a pair of his underwear, wiping your hand on it, before snuggling up next to him. “Wow. That was… you’re amazing.”

“That was wonderful.” He looks down at you, and smiles, cheeks bunching up a little, and you roll over, tucking up under his chin for snuggles. “I still have it, yes?”

“What do you mean?” you grin, jabbing his ribs. “God, there’s not a spare ounce on you, is there, are we ordering a pizza?”

“I am ... well, I am 46. Till is the real old bastard, but I am catching up.” He huffs air out, and you see an uncharacteristic look of… dreaminess, almost pained nostalgia cross his face. “And you are…” He exhales, and you reach up, patting his smooth head. “Don’t do that…”

“I know, you’re prematurely bald,” you say, sagely. “Come on! As if I care, you’re not that much older, and you’re not… you know, old. You’re hardly… I don’t know. You play bass in a metal band. That’s very cool.” He looks at you, brows raised. You kiss his cheek. “Oh, Oliver, come on. Age is but a number…”

“Do you honestly believe that? I'm at the age where ... well ... settling down with kids sounds almost nice, especially with you.” You grin. “But you… you’re barely out of university. Surely you do not wish to have children yet.”

“I don’t, you’re right. But I want them one day. I have shit to do, Oliver! And anyway, you’re touring and stuff. We’re not… listen. Do you want to be with me?”

“Of course,” he says, in a tone of voice that elates you – he sounds as if ‘no’ was never even an option. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Always. So… how about we leave the age thing to the people who care, and we just get on with it, and we don’t try to tick any boxes, and we just… be happy?” You grin, and he looks at you, a sly little smile on his face. “What?”

“I love you. Very much.”

“ _Und ich liebe dich… also_ _?_ ”

“ _Auch_ , dearest, but cute.” He kisses you, and you snuggle up to him. “Okay. Would you like to order pizza?”

“Pizza would be awesome,” you grin. “And then maybe we can watch some TV. One of my favourites… Tots TV? Balamory?” He looks at you. “You don’t watch much kids TV.”

“… _I am 46_!” he snorts, and tickles you with those long fingers. “Okay. Let’s order that. And then watch something. For old fuckers such as myself.” You kiss him, and sigh. “Thank you, dearest.”


End file.
